Do you see him?
by Snotwing
Summary: Sequel to He's Serious and Dinner for Two. Companion to The C Word. It's Tony's turn to abstain for a week... Gibbs, Abby, and Ducky try to keep a 'serious' Tony out of trouble - and it's a lot harder than it looks! Read and review please! Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Okay, I've done it again – please let me know what you think.

** * ** * ** * **

"McGee"

Tim looked up from his report. Ziva was looking at him. Ziva was looking at him suspiciously. That was not good. If he was not so tired, he might actually be nervous. As it was, just didn't have the energy for nervousness. Irritated he could do, though – Ziva had been picky and demanding all day. They'd solved a pretty big case yesterday – a Lt. Commander had been stuffed in the trunk of a car and they had almost not found her in time. The case had been rough and tiring. Today they'd all been dragging their way through the standard paperwork. Now, it was nearing 5 o'clock and he was feeling antsy. He was so ready to go home.

"McGee!"

"What?" he snapped. "What is it that you think I did this time?"

"What do you think I think you did?" she narrowed her eyes at him. "You did do something! What!"

She looked a little angry. Tim flushed with frustration. He couldn't deal with this right now – he just wanted to finish his report and go home.

"Ziva, I –"

"Oh, will you two knock it off? I'm trying to concentrate here!" Tony called without looking up from his tetris game. McGee shared a 'look' with Ziva. Gibbs hadn't been any better than the rest of them and Tony's constant antics didn't help.

"You do look pretty focused," Tim observed. He stood up and walked over to Tony's desk, casually leaning over his shoulder. Ziva joined him a second later. "What level you on?"

"Not now, McGee! I'm busy!"

"Hmmm." Ziva stood on her tiptoes, peering over Tony's other shoulder. "He is being very serious, yes, McGee? Those blocks are coming down pretty fast – he must be on a very big level"

"It's 'high level', Zee-vah," Tony corrected distractedly.

Ziva smiled maliciously at Tim. McGee raised an eyebrow – what Ziva was proposing was risky. Ah – what the heck, he was too tired to worry about how whiny Tony would be later on. This was just too easy to pass up. Besides, they'd put up with Tony all day – they were entitled to some revenge.

"I think you're right, Ziva," he agreed. "I'll bet he's close to winning. He just has three levels to go!" Tim leaned against the back of Tony's chair, jostling its occupant.

"Hey!" Tony exclaimed.

"Do not mess him up, McGee," Ziva admonished and pulled on McGee's arm, causing Tony to endure another sharp jolt.

Tony squawked loudly causing both field agents to snicker. The senior field agent frowned and hunched over his cell phone. Exchanging another look, McGee and Ziva leaned in closer so they culd still see the game.

"You know, Tony," Ziva purred into Tony's right ear. Tony's fingers fumble a bit and she smiled. "Gibbs is going to be very unhappy when he sees you playing a game."

"She's right, Tony. I bet Gibbs is going to walk in any second now," McGee baited.

"What do you think Gibbs will do to him, McGee?" Ziva's question was casual and uninterested. Her smile was cruel – but with just a tad more good humor than there had been earlier. Tim was enjoying this, too.

They watched as Tony fought an uphill battle with the rain of colorful blocks, barraging him with 'helpful hints' and 'thoughtful' reminders about Gibbs imminent wrath.

** * ** * ** * **

At the far end of the bullpen, Gibbs watched as Ziva and McGee harassed his senior field agent. The two had been unbelievably grumpy all day – their arguing alone had driven him to three extra coffee breaks, before lunch.

He had to admit, though, that he hadn't been in the sunniest of moods, either. He was surprised Tony hadn't gotten fed up with the three of them. Instead, he had, quite patiently, played the peacemaker all day. Gibbs smile fondly when he heard Ziva laugh. Tim was grinning fiercely. Gradually, the tension eased out of their postures.

Gibbs glanced at his watch – there was still a good thirty minutes left to go before he could send them home. Well, at least he wouldn't have to listen to his two junior agents fight like cats and dogs through it. Tony really deserved a drink after this.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony had 'died' twice before Gibbs strode in complete with his coffee and foul mood.

"Guys! Go away you keep messing me up!" Tony yelled in mock frustration. He felt his two teammates back away slowly.

Smack!

"How's that for messed up, DiNozzo? Back to work." Gibbs stomped over to his desk.

McGee and Ziva shared a smug glance before hurriedly following suit. Neither remembered their earlier hostility towards the other.

And neither missed Tony's satisfied grin as he rubbed the back of his head. Mission accomplished. He frowned slightly. It had almost been too easy. A cursory glance at his boss told Tony that his ploy had been detected – and appreciated. He smiled – at least there was one person that didn't think he was a complete idiot.

Truth be told, even though his frat-boy persona had its uses, he was getting kind of tired of being treated like the court jester by McGee and Ziva. He thought that after 'the Talk', they'd realize that he wasn't really as juvenile as he acted.

There was one obvious solution to that problem – Tony cringed just thinking of it. Still, if he wanted them to take him seriously… Tony sighed. It wasn't really fair to act one way and expect his friends to treat him another. After all, he just needed to prove that he was capable of mature behavior, not maintain it indefinitely.

Tony nodded to himself. He'd made his decision. He, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, would be completely serious and mature for one whole week. If that didn't prove his point, then nothing would.

With a determined air, he swiveled his chair around and opened his drawer for a pen – which he found after sorting a small assortment of items, such as his can of silly string, his back up can of silly string, his collapsible back scratcher, a neatly folder whoopee cushion, and etc.

He could so do this. Piece of cake. Just one week.

_Oh, who am I kidding? I'll never make it, _he thought. Still, he was unwilling to change his decision. He needed to make his point – his team needed to know the Truth.

Just one week - Tony whimpered.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs observed Tony silently over the top of his reading glasses. He saw DiNozzo smile as McGee and Ziva hastily seated themselves at their desks. He was no doubt pleased that they weren't bickering anymore. Then, unaccountably, he frowned.

Gibbs frowned, wondering what was going through Tony's head this time. His agent glanced up and Gibbs quickly put on his approving and appreciative glare causing DiNozzo to smile. Yep, he really did deserve a drink.

Gibbs pretended to go back to his work, but something didn't feel right. He continued to stare at DiNozzo, but covertly this time. He was wearing his Thinking Expression (well, that's what Abby called it). It was a decidedly unhappy Thinking Expression. Tony glanced up at McGee and Ziva. Both agents were hard at paperwork. The unhappy Thinking Expression intensified and Gibbs furrowed his brow. _What could possibly be bugging DiNozzo this time?_ He asked himself.

DiNozzo was usually satisfied with himself after tricking someone into a better mood. He'd just tricked two someones, so, by Gibbs' record, he should be fairly content. Unless –

_Oh, holy crap!_

Gibbs had it. He knew what was bugging Tony. And –_ shit, shit, shit_ – he knew it did not bode well for the fragile team equilibrium that Tony usually kept in balance. Tony kept it balanced through a steady stream of antics and jokes and stupid questions and movie references. But, despite that, Tony needed to know that his friends _understood_ him and, more importantly, could respect him.

So, to achieve this, Gibbs knew Tony was about to try something that was doomed to fail spectacularly.

Tony was going to try to be serious.

Gibbs also knew that there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. Sighing, Gibbs readied himself to relay the bad news to Ducky and Abby – at least he had allies this time around. They'd all three work damage control until Tony was able to work out of his 'serious' funk.

McGee and Ziva, as the only two 'first timers' were in for an… ordeal.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/B:** Ach, my muse played a nasty trick on me. This was going to be a quick one shot, but I now realize this is going to be a nice multi-chapter fic. I think I'll make it part of a "One Week" series along with that other fic I'm currently working on…. *stares intently at the ground* Um, so, guys… about that other fic… some chapters may be a tad delayed, but if you get fed up with waiting (on either story) blast me a review and I'll try to accommodate.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: ** Wow, thanks for the reviews, you guys. I'm glad you like it so far – I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. ;)

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs glanced at the clock. It was 4:37pm. Officially, his team got off at 5:00pm. Unofficially, they couldn't go without his permission – or, rather, they wouldn't dare leave until he said that could. Well, Tony might, if he was particularly distressed. Gibbs looked over at his senior field agent and rolled his eyes. The man was hard a work – even though he'd e-mailed his report to Gibbs almost an hour earlier.

That was actually typical of DiNozzo. He'd developed an efficient report writing strategy years ago and so always finished it early. He never turned it in until he absolutely had to, though. Gibbs had never figured that out. Considering DiNozzo's craving for approval, he would have thought that the man would always be handing them in early, just to show off. But he never did. In Gibbs' mind that counted in his favor.

Gibbs' checked the time again. It was now 4:41pm. Sighing, he heaved himself out of his seat. If he hurried, he might have time to warn both Ducky and Abby about Tony's –er – _idea_, and think up a plan of action.

There was a reason Tony didn't do serious – or, at least, many reasons that he _shouldn't_. Serious Tony was morose, obviously guarded, distant, and depressing to be around. His normal, everyday antics protected him from his demons, offered him a modicum of privacy, and distracted his friends from the dark and gloomy facts of life that were always lingering in the shadows – especially with their job. Gibbs stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button for the lowest level.

Serious Tony meant Gibbs, Abby, and Ducky were going to have to work extra-hard to keep Tony's chin above water – Tony's and everybody else's, too. Gibbs wondered briefly if he could reasonably blame Ziva and McGee for Tony's _Idea_. After all, Tony had been trying, since the McGee Fiasco and Ziva Truth or Dare Scare (Abby named that one) to show them that he was capable of mature behavior – McGee and Ziva were just being bone headed.

He guessed it wasn't their fault they were … obtuse. With the subtle, unspoken, DiNozzo things, anyway. They were both good investigators; true, they were still learning, but they were capable. They just didn't get _this_ yet.

Well, they were about to learn the hard way.

** * ** * ** * **

Ksshpt fzzt Pop, BANG BANG, Ksshpt fzzt POP, frazzle-guzzazz –fffpt –

Abby looked up when her music suddenly stopped. There was only one person brave enough to turn her music off without asking first – even though Tony and McGee were _almost_ there – and that was Gibbs.

"Gibbs!" Spinning around, she waggled her fingers. He'd only brought her one Caf-pow! today, and it was definitely time for a pick-me-up. She frowned when caught sight of his empty hands – and troubled expression. _Hmmm, which to address first?_, she wondered. _Best to let him pick._

"What's up, Gibbs? And where's my Caf-pow! ?" Abby frowned. "You don't have a case do you? Because if you have a case you really should have brought me a caf-pow! and I've only had one from you all day and –"

"Abby!" Gibbs cut in, "DiNozzo has a bad idea". Abby's eyes went comically wide at this declaration. Before she could demand details, Gibbs made a demand of his own.

"We need Duck." Uh-oh. Gibbs was calling in his back-up back-up. This was bad. Very, very bad. Whatever idea Tony had, it was bad. Tony's Bad Idea – ha, TBI, like FBI, and every bit as scary. So, Ducky, right!

"On it, Boss-man" Abby swirled around to face her computer and established a video link to Autopsy. "Ducky!", she greeted.

"Duck, need you in Abby's lab. It's Tony". Ducky's face was only briefly in the range of the camera, but Abby could still tell that he'd heard the urgency in Gibbs' voice.

About two minutes later, Abby and Ducky were standing shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the bad news.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs couldn't his small grin as he surveyed his ME and forensic scientist. They stood side by side, spines straight, shoulders back, chins jutted out, and eyes grim. They looked like they were awaiting an execution sentence. But, then, all they knew so far was that something was wrong with Tony – and that might very well mean the death of someone. This was not the first time Tony'd pulled a crazy stunt on them, and the three of them had joined forces to pick up the pieces.

It wasn't _that_ bad, this time. At least, there were no gushing wounds, hospital visits, mysterious girlfriends, or car bombs involved. And they knew where he was. Still, it was going to be an … unpleasant and difficult ordeal. Time to share.

"Tony has decided to be serious" Gibbs had to wait a couple heartbeats for their reactions – well, it had surprised him, too – but when they finally came, he wasn't disappointed.

"What! Why? For how long?" Abby demanded, pulling on her pigtails in distress. The Goth tended to be very vocal about her feelings. "What are we going to do? This is bad. McGee and Ziva aren't ready for it – they'll make it worse! What are we going to do?"

"Abigail, you must calm down" Ducky soothed. Abby shot him a quick look which caused Gibbs to snort. Ducky wasn't in any shape to soothe anybody – he was just as shook up as Abby. He wasn't as loud as she, but Gibbs knew from experience that could out-talk her any day – and would, given the chance. He decided not to give Ducky the chance – it was 4:53pm.

"I guess you both remember what happened the last time" Insert emphatic yeses "Well, we're gonna plan better this time around."

"Jethro, might I suggest you try talking to the boy?" Abby and Gibbs both recognized Ducky's suggestion for what it really was – a last ditch attempt to stave off catastrophe.

"Tony doesn't work that way when he's being serious, Ducky" Abby commiserated. "He just isn't the same Tony when he's Serious Tony."

"You're right, Abbs. He's got to work this through himself. Suggestions?"

"I suppose, since it is inevitable, we should each be assigned a task." Ducky mulled over his thoughts for a few moments, before continuing. "There are three major concerns – Anthony, of course, Ziva, and young Timothy. Tony – well, we know what he's like. I'm afraid Ziva will try to pry."

"She'll think something is wrong with him and start asking all these probing questions which he won't answer." Abby interjected and Gibbs nodded his agreement.

"Yes, yes, you are right. Normally, Anthony would deflect these questions with a joke or prank until Ziva forgot her curiosity. Without his deflection, Ziva will feel like he's hiding something from her. Jethro, Abigail, someone will need to keep her from questioning him too harshly, and keep Anthony from offending her."

No one volunteered.

"Timothy, on the other hand, will also be worried," Ducky continued after a moment. "But, rather than questions and feelings of betrayal, I suspect he will strive for normality. He'll try to tease Anthony into a playful mood and be worried, and perhaps a little angry, when he does not succeed."

"We'll have to keep him from thinking that Tony's gone batty – and not let him get all mad and fussy when he doesn't understand Serious Tony" Abby stated. Again, Gibbs nodded his agreement.

"And, young Anthony…" Ducky trailed off and sent Gibbs an imploring look.

"Yeah," Gibbs sighed. He had known he was the one that would have to deal with Tony. "Make DiNozzo feel loved, and needed, and respected and all that crap."

"You that so elegantly, Jethro" Ducky commented sarcastically. "But, yes, you are really the only one for the job. That leaves Abigail and I with Timothy and Ziva. Who would you like, my dear?" Always the gentleman, Ducky allowed Abby first pick.

"Uhm, I guess I'll handle McGee. You can have Ziva." Ducky nodded.

"Excellent. Now, Jethro –" Ducky stopped. He and Abby shared a knowing smile – Gibbs had already left.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs stormed into the bullpen at – he checked his watch – 5:07pm to find that DiNozzo had already left. _Damnit, DiNozzo_, he thought. This was already not going well. McGee and Ziva were still sitting at their desks wearing sullen expressions. Gibbs dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

Tomorrow was going to be fun.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Special Agent DiNozzo walked into the bullpen a good thirty minutes early. He was impeccably groomed, as per usual, but his hair bore trace evidence of a comb. Tony had felt his usual messy style was somewhat less than 100 percent professional, so he'd gone with a more traditional look.

He survey Team Gibbs' Corner – his boss had obviously been in earlier, but wasn't sitting at his desk. Both McGee and Ziva were absent. Usually they were both in before he rushed into the bullpen, doing his best not to be late. Hopefully, they wouldn't show up for the next ten or fifteen minutes. There were a few things he wanted to do unobserved.

Shrugging off his jacket, he turned and hung it neatly on the little used coat hook that was sticky-glued to the filing cabinet just to the right of his desk. Normally, he just tossed his jacket over the top of it. He gave the bullpen one more quick survey before settling in at his desk and opening the top drawer.

Out came the silly string and back up silly string, the collapsible back scratcher and unused whoopee cushion. The right hand drawer yielded his mighty mouse stapler, three Betty Boop pens, a cassette tape with a unique collection of black mail material on Agent Forrester and his buddy Craig, and his very favorite calendar. From the bottom drawer came his stash of stolen chocolate bars, super glue, and his four favorite issues of his favorite magazine.

Within seven minutes he'd boxed it all up and stowed the box on the very bottom shelf of the small book case behind his desk. It took him a little longer to sort through his collection of rather unflattering photos he kept on his computer. Or – in Ziva's case – _very_ flattering photos. However, he'd just managed to finish the monumental task when Ziva and McGee stepped off the elevator together at 6:53am.

He was ready to be serious.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs strode back into the bullpen at five till seven. _All _three of his agents were at their desks focused on their respective computers. McGee and Ziva looked sharp and well rested. Hopefully, they would both be in better moods than they were yesterday. He was dreading the coming day enough. He silently prayed that they would not get a case today, of all days.

Gibbs quietly made his way closer to his desk. No one had noticed him yet, and he wanted the chance to observe his agents before he 'officially' started the day with them. McGee was squinting at his computer screen and tapping the fingers of his left hand impatiently. If Gibbs had to guess, he'd say McGee was waiting for his _personal_ e-mail to load.

Ziva had turned her attention from her computer to some papers and envelopes she'd piled on her desk. Leaning back in her chair, she leisurely thumbed through the rather large stack. She was probably sorting through her mail.

And DiNozzo – Gibbs spared DiNozzo special scrutiny. His agent was smartly dressed in somber colors. His hair – Gibbs stifled a dismayed groan – was very neatly combed and gelled. The stylish tousled look was gone – _and with it,_ Gibbs mused, _his personality._ Okay, maybe it wasn't _that_ bad, but Gibbs was a pessimist most days. Serious Tony was flat like stale saltines. And the hair was a good indicator of what he could expect the rest of the day.

DiNozzo looked like he was attending a funeral, not just showing up for a normal, case-less day at work. He was already hard at work (instead of hardly working) and Gibbs didn't have to look to know that he had already dealt with all the papers in his inbox, and was working on the ones in his own inbox. Gibbs sighed. Serious Tony was even more of a workaholic than Regular Tony – and that was saying something.

He scowled at the other two members of his team. Neither one appeared to notice anything _different_ about his senior field agent. He walked the rest of the way to his desk. Tony noticed him first.

"Morning, Boss," DiNozzo said politely, sans the usual incorrigible grin. McGee and Ziva both jerked guiltily and scrambled to put their personal business away.

"Hi, Boss," McGee his mouse rapidly, barely sparing a glance at his boss.

"Gibbs," Ziva was much calmer than McGee, but still avoided making eye contact.

Gibbs just grunted, wishing he had coffee.

** * ** * ** * **

It was quiet. Ziva looked up for the fourth time in the last half hour, checking to be sure that DiNozzo was still at his desk. He was still there and still being quiet. It was uncanny. It was nearly lunch time, and in the last five hours he had done nothing. Well, nothing but work, which was even more disturbing.

There had been no flying wads of paper, crashing paper airplanes, goofy emails, singing, name calling or anything else that was normal for Tony. And his hair was wrong. She and McGee had tried teasing him about it earlier, when Gibbs had left for his first coffee break, but Tony had not responded.

At all.

Maybe he was giving them the quiet treatment? Er, silent treatment. Ziva could not think of any reason that he might be angry at her or McGee. Maybe something was wrong in his personal life? It would have to be very badly wrong. If it was just a bad date or water heater explosion or anything like that he would be whining and complaining and driving everyone insane.

Instead he was sitting at his desk _working_ quietly.

Something was wrong.

Maybe someone had died?

Ziva looked up from her work again. Tony had a cold case file – one that Gibbs had not assigned him – spread out over his desk. He was diligently making notes in a notebook like he had been doing for the past three hours. He hadn't even gotten up to use the head.

She glanced at McGee. He, too, was watching Tony and she knew he had noticed it too. Maybe he would know what was wrong with Tony?

** * ** * ** * **

McGee was having problems focusing. The bullpen was eerily quiet. Well, okay, it wasn't quiet – there had to be at least twenty-five people working in the bullpen. Phones rang, agents argued, bosses yelled, and subordinates laughed and teased each other. No it wasn't _quiet_, but DiNozzo was quiet.

He frowned. He _should_ be enjoying the quiet – after all, he was Tony's favorite target. He tried telling himself that nothing was wrong. Gibbs had probably yelled at Tony for being so annoying yesterday (which might explain why he was at work early) and Tony was sulking. That's what he _tried_ to tell himself, but his gut didn't seem to like the theory.

Tony looked different today. McGee couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about the senior field agent. It wasn't just that he was well behaved. He was – well, he was _serious_. Tim had seen Tony serious once or twice fairly recently and it had been disconcerting to say the least. Unsettling.

Tim fidgeted. Dagnabit, why couldn't he _focus? _Tony was focusing – he'd been focusing all morning. He'd _focused_ right through Ziva's attempt to tease him about his hair-do. He'd even ignored McGee spirited jab.

There was absolutely no reaction. Nothing, nadda, zilch.

It was like all of DiNozzo's personality had been drained out of him and nothing but the husk was left.

McGee shook his head. He glanced over at Ziva to see that she'd been watching him watch Tony. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the senior field agent. Well, she wouldn't be a very good spy if she hadn't noticed Tony acting strangely _this _morning.

He doubted, however, that she had any more of a clue about the strange seriousness than he did.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs was working double time to keep up with DiNozzo's output of paper work. He gone through both his inbox and Gibbs' by 9:00am and started on cold cases without being told. He was tunneling through those at an almost impossible speed – and still turning up some fairly good leads.

About 9:15am, right after his first coffee run, he noticed McGee and Ziva shooting Tony confused and frustrated glances. At first, they tried to be discreet, but by 11:00am, both had taken to blatant staring. He was reluctant to say anything, even though it was obviously interrupting their work. Gibbs know that as soon as he said anything, he'd open a big can of worms.

He tried to concentrate on DiNozzo's reports – he would assign the new leads to McGee and Ziva after lunch. There would be enough to keep them both busy for the rest of the day and, very likely, most of tomorrow as well. Autopsy and forensics had been quiet – Ducky and Abby were dreading this as much as he was.

Gibbs' computer beeped and he shot an annoyed glare at DiNozzo – who was bent over yet another cold case file. Yep - one more set of notes from DiNozzo. He already had five other similar e-mails. Sighing, he glanced at the time. It was 11:43am – officially seventeen minutes till lunch, but he couldn't wait.

"Go for lunch," he barked. McGee and Ziva wore identical surprised expressions. DiNozzo just smiled wryly and reached for his coat.

"Thanks, Boss." DiNozzo was very polite and very, very serious.

_Damn, he hasn't smiled since I walked in this morning, _he thought with frustration. Well – sarcastic smiles didn't count.

"Um, Boss? It isn't time for lunch yet?" McGee said timidly, making a question out of a statement.

"You wanna wait McGee?" Gibbs shot back sharply.

"Uh, n-no, Boss. It's just that you don't usually let us go before 12:00."

At this point, Tony should be yelling "Come on, Probie! Never look a gift horse in the mouth" or something like that. He should be tugging McGee and Ziva out the door and out of range of Gibbs bad mood. Instead, Tony was already out boarding the elevator, leaving his two clueless teammates to fend for themselves.

Gibbs growled, both at McGee for questioning him and at Tony for leaving him alone to deal with it.

"Go, McGee, or lose lunch altogether! What'd'ya lookin' at, Officer David?"

"Nothing, Gibbs. I am going." Ziva hurriedly gathered her stuff and walked quickly to the elevator – McGee beat her.

Gibbs sighed – he couldn't deal with this. Why did he have to deal with this?

He reached for his phone. Abby wouldn't mind bringing him lunch – he knew that he should be here when his agents got back from their break.

It was after lunch that the show would really start…

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: **Sorry it took me so long to update. Thanks for reading and please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs' 'victims' scrambled into the elevator as soon as the doors opened, almost knocking over Agent Ronald Simmons. Neither even bothered stammering out an apology. Twin sighs of relief resounded through the small compartment when the doors finally closed.

The silence was heavy, but neither agent seemed inclined to break it – either that, or they just didn't know how to begin to describe the …unique… situation they found themselves in.

McGee and Ziva stared at each other – it was definitely the latter, Tim decided. Ziva reached out and punched the button for the parking garage. She was now studiously avoiding eye contact with her teammate.

Well, someone had to start.

"So…" McGee began, fidgeting with his tie. He and Ziva really needed to talk about Tony _and_ Gibbs. Something big – no, something _huge_ was up. "That was –"

The elevator doors opened and McGee chickened out. _I'm _not_ chickening out… I'm just procrastinating, _he defended his actions to himself.

He paused to think about that – maybe the loony-ness that had Tony and Gibbs firmly in its grasp was contagious. Ziva was watching him warily.

"How 'bout lunch?" He asked.

** * ** * ** * **

Fifteen minutes later, McGee and Ziva were sitting in a nice little Thai restaurant waiting for their orders to be brought out. The establishment was very popular with NCIS agents – it was close to headquarters, the help was friendly, and the food was good. Most of the agents ordered the food to go or to be delivered, so the hideous green walls and 60's style light fixtures (the ones that gave off light so yellow it was almost orange) didn't bother many of them.

"So… Tony and the Boss seem a little… off to you, Ziva?" McGee queried. Tony was – well, Tim wasn't sure what Tony was, but it was plenty disconcerting. If he didn't still _look _like Tony, Tim was sure he absolutely wouldn't recognize him, at all. Gibbs' behavior was less radical and noticeable than DiNozzo's, but it was still concerning. It wasn't unusual for Gibbs to snap at him, but it was almost always out of annoyance, not anger. That, earlier, had most definitely been anger.

"Yes! Tony is…" Ziva trailed off. Apparently she couldn't think of a good word it either. After thinking for a moment she gave up and shrugged her shoulders. "Gibbs is acting like he has a bee in his cap." She sounded exasperated. Ziva had also noticed Gibbs uncharacteristic waspishness.

"Uh, bonnet, Ziva. A bee in his bonnet," McGee corrected automatically.

"Men do not wear bonnets."

"Uh, no, but –"

"English does not make any sense! Gibbs seems angry, yes?"

"Yeah. And Tony is…" He trailed off. What was Tony?

"Something is wrong with Tony." Ziva stated flatly. "I have seen him like before, but only once. You remember after we were locked in the shipping container?"

McGee nodded – that was not something he was likely to forget, ever.

"I invited him to dinner and he acted the same way." Ziva deliberately left out the part where she fell asleep and Tony did all the cooking. "He acted very un-Tony-ish. I thought something was wrong, so I called Abby."

"Did she help?" Maybe Abby could fix this. He dared to hope.

"I am not sure, exactly. Abby came, and she brought Gibbs." Ziva paused, looking deep in thought. "Tony was still strange, but he was less… He was less serious, less polite with Abby and Gibbs there teasing him."

Tim thought about the few glimpses he'd had of Tony being serious. It had been really freaky.

"You think Tony's behavior and Gibbs' crankiness could be related?" Ziva cocked an eyebrow upward.

"You think Gibbs is angry because Tony is acting strangely?" she asked.

"Either that, or Tony is acting strangely because Gibbs is angry." McGee frowned as he made that statement.

Normally, it wouldn't matter which it was. Fact remained that Gibbs was cranky and Tony was in a funk. All that should matter – all that used to matter – to Tim was how he was going to survive until everything went back to normal. It should be a simple matter of waiting for whatever Gibbs and Tony's problem was to blow over.

But something was bugging him – and he was pretty sure it had to do with his and Tony's recent _special _'conversations' and a certain game of Mouse Trap. Mouse Trap – he still had a hard time wrapping his head around that one. He, Abby, Tony and _Gibbs_ had played Mouse Trap at work.

And because of that stupid, silly game (which he lost) he couldn't just stand on the sidelines and simply live through this mess. He had to help.

"You are right, it could be either. What should we do?"

Ziva seemed to agree.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva studied McGee's expression carefully. He was not normally this concerned about Tony – but, then, neither was she. Tony's personal problems had always been Tony's personal problems. If he made the mistake of bringing them to work – which he did quite often, in her opinion – Gibbs' would set him straight with a swift slap to the back of the head.

He had not done that this time. He had no reason to – Tony had been perfectly behaved all morning. Ziva wondered if Gibbs either noticed or cared.

Okay – of course Gibbs noticed. He's Gibbs. Did he care?

Before the "Dinner with Tony" Ziva would have said no. However, she had seen a different side to all three of her co-workers that night. It had been strange and unwelcome – she did not appreciate learning that she, Ziva David, Mossad, had missed something as important as the connection that Tony, Gibbs, and Abby had displayed during dinner.

But they had shown her regardless. _Tony_ had shown her. It had taken her that night to realize how often Tony uses a 'mask' at work. She still could not always tell when he was being himself, and when he was acting for some reason or another.

Ziva felt like she no longer knew the man. And, just as she was beginning to understand him again – he changed. This Tony was not one she was comfortable with. She hoped that 'he' did not turn out to be the 'real' Tony.

So she asked McGee, "What should we do?"

McGee looked just as lost as she did.

"I – I've seen Tony like this, too. And we've both seen Gibbs cranky." McGee paused, collecting his thoughts. "We just don't have enough information to do anything." Ziva nodded.

"You think we should go for reinforcements." Ziva's tactical mind could handle this. "We should also do some recon – ask Tony what is insecting him. Maybe he will choose to talk."

"Yeah – wait what?" It took McGee a second to puzzle out what she meant. "You mean ask Tony what is bugging him." He shook his head. No way that was going to work. "You go right ahead – I'm going to talk to Ducky."

"Fine," Ziva returned. "I will talk to both Tony and Abby."

"Right – holy crap, Ziva, Gibbs is going to kill us – we're late!"

Both agents shot out of their seats, leaving enough money behind to cover the tab. Neither bothered to collect their change.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: **Sorry if this chapter seems a little short. Thanks for reading and please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Tim and Ziva ran into the building. McGee frantically punched the 'up' button on the elevator while Ziva opted to take the stairs because she knew she was faster than an old metal box. Even so, McGee and Ziva spilled into the bullpen at approximately the same time and _exactly_ seven and a half minutes late.

"You're late!" Tim thought Gibbs had been angry earlier – now he knew that had been nothing. 'Hurricane Gibbs' his foot! This man was a freakin' volcano! "How is it that two federal agents can't manage to get back from lunch on time? Let's hope that in your short careers nobody asks you for the time of day! Where the hell did you go, Alaska!"

McGee's mouth dropped open – that was probably the most he'd heard Gibbs 'say' in one go. He _never_ yelled like that. He rarely even gave Tony more than a head slap when _he_ was late – what was the big deal here?

Tim's eyes darted to Tony's desk. The senior field agent was working industriously, studiously ignoring Gibbs' rather loud lecture.

"I asked you a question." Gibbs wasn't yelling anymore – but the quiet menace in his voice was much scarier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Ziva was in a similar state of frozen shock/fear. McGee opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn't stop staring at the vein pulsing bluely in his Boss's forehead.

Now was the perfect time for Tony to curse loudly because he just lost his virtual game of checkers with BlondeHottie105. Or he could complain that the Goat Meat Sloppy Joe Sandwich Special gave him major indigestion. Heck, Tim would even settle for Tony singing _The Song that Never Ends_ loudly and horribly off key.

It was so quiet in the bullpen that he could hear the consistent scraping of DiNozzo's pen against paper. Unbelievable. Just when he needed Tony the Irritating Idiot, it turned out said Idiot was apparently on an extended vacation on Mars.

"Damnit, McGee-" McGee cringed. His boss was going to hit him. Or blow up. Spontaneous human combustion is supposed to be an urban legend, but he could believe it was about to happen. "What the –"

"Excuse me, Agent Gibbs?"

Ziva dropped her purse. Tony addressed Gibbs politely, firmly, and solemnly. Gibbs was unexpectedly taken aback just long enough for DiNozzo to _ease_ his way in between the senior and junior agents and start talking.

"I have finished going through all the cold cases for the last three years, from this office."

Gibbs scowled. McGee shook his head, hoping to clear his vision, even though it wasn't fuzzy. He'd seen a strange emotion flit across the boss' face. Well, it wasn't strange in and of itself – he'd seen it dozens of times – it was strange that it was there _now_. It was the expression Gibbs wore when one of his plans tanked. Disappointment plus a modicum of frustration. It was gone almost as soon as he'd spotted it – maybe he was mistaken?

Well, it didn't matter now, anyway. What _did_ matter was the 'glare of death' that Gibbs had redirected at him and Ziva. Without looking to Ziva, McGee scrambled to his desk, intending to keep his head down for the rest of the day.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder about Tony's belated 'rescue'. While he was still in the hot seat, so to speak, he'd realized that it wasn't unusual for Tony to suddenly demand Gibbs attention while the boss was in the middle of chewing out – anyone, really. Him, Ziva, Abby, even Ducky on occasion, and anyone else that inadvertently crossed the Mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He just didn't ever do it like _that. _Tony had always been discrete.

Discrete???

** * ** * ** * **

Leaning against the cool metal wall of his (yes, _his_) elevator, Gibbs sighed in frustration. When Tony had plunked back down in his seat barely ten minutes after being sent to lunch Gibbs suddenly knew he wasn't going to be able to wait this out.

Tony had brought with him coffee and a bagel – at least he was eating – and gone back to work on those damn cold cases without saying a word. Gibbs had seven of the blasted things sitting on his desk, festooned with orange post-it notes that were covered in Tony's chicken-scratch – which, by the way, had improved greatly with the whole serious thing. Detailed typed reports had been emailed to him and, he suspected, would also be sitting on his desk as a stack of neatly stapled hard copies.

So, he'd thought up a plan. It hadn't worked.

Gibbs almost felt bad, laying into McGee and Ziva like that. They were less than ten minutes late, and he knew they were concerned about Tony. He had considered them acceptable collateral damage – they would both recover and the agency provided free counseling for all employees if they didn't.

He tried to play Tony. DiNozzo was like a big brother to the rest of the team. He often stepped in when he felt Gibbs was being too rough. For his part, Gibbs had allowed it because Tony had always been subtle about it… and usually gave him an excuse to slap someone. He knew DiNozzo wouldn't be able to keep quiet while he thoroughly chewed McGee and Ziva out for a less than appropriate reason.

His plan was to pick on McGee for a typo in his last report – but the two of them had walked in late, presenting the perfect opportunity. Maybe he just hadn't yelled harshly enough? Gibbs sighed again. He was pretty sure that was the _first_ time Tony had _ever_ addressed him directly as Agent Gibbs. He didn't like it. Even while he was a cop, DiNozzo had been overly casual when addressing the senior special agent.

Well, whatever. That plan was a bust.

McGee and Ziva had both watched the interchange closely, but Gibbs knew they hadn't caught half of what had been said. DiNozzo was like that – he said more with his body language than with his words. Well, more important stuff anyway. The senior field agent might as well have shouted at him to back off.

Of course Tony had seen straight through Gibbs angry façade. Tony also acknowledged that Gibbs knew and disapproved of the 'stunt' he was trying to pull, and refused to back down. Gibbs knew that he'd played his hand too early. There was nothing left to do but wait it out.

Well, that, and damage control.

He hit the emergency stop button, starting the elevator again and hit the button for the lab. Abby was going to find out sooner or later, he might as well get the worst of it over with now.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony grumbled under his breath. What the hell was Gibbs playing at? Didn't he understand that Tony was just 'improving' himself? Wearing his big boy pants to work for a while?

The sneaky old man had done the one thing that Tony never could just sit around and watch, unless it was absolutely deserved. Anthony DiNozzo had been an only child, but he'd had younger cousins. Cousins who had 'dads' that were just as violent as his own. He'd always done his best to protect them, when he could. That's how he'd stumbled upon his 'class clown' routine, actually. It had never fazed the adults, but it made the younger kids laugh, forget to be afraid, while he took the beating for them.

Gibbs wasn't violent, but he wasn't gentle either. Tony's ingrained protectiveness wouldn't let him sit back and watch any of them, but particularly McGee or Abby, be yelled at, targeted, victimized, without a damn good reason. And Gibbs knew that. He was trying to force Tony to fold. Wasn't going to happen, and he'd just told the boss as much. Without any clowning around.

** * ** * ** * **

Abby looked up when Gibbs strode into her lab. He had a Caf-Pow! with him this time, but it wasn't going to do him any good.

"McGee just called me. You were mean." Abby was really, really upset. McGee was worried – he'd even babbled something about pod people. Gibbs unleashing on him hadn't helped one bit.

"Trying to get Tony to snap, Abby. McGee and Ziva will be alright." Gibbs was clearly unhappy that she already knew. That was fine with her. She had all the advantages now.

"Snap! Gibbs, snap? Really? You don't want to _snap_ Tony. He needs to know that his corny jokes and morbid humor are _needed_. We need him back, Gibbs. Don't break him." She narrowed her eyes. "And don't break McGee, either. You haven't scared anyone off since Blackadder – over five years, that's a record Gibbs. You just have to hold it together until Tony comes back." Yes, she realized she was talking like Tony had gone somewhere – and, in her mind, he had. Tony was a cuddly, lovable, sarcastic movie geek that always had her back. Serious Tony wasn't any of that. "I just don't want you to do anything that Tony can't fix when he gets back." Now she was feeling sad – she couldn't stay angry when she missed Tony as much as she did. He hadn't been in to see her all day. It just wasn't the same.

"Tony would never let me do that, Abbs. Besides, summthin' good happened."

Abby looked at him warily. Good was it?

"McGee tell you that Tony interrupted me?" Abby's eyes brightened. Tony was back? Gibbs shook his head in response to the unspoken question.

"He 'excused' his way into the middle of McGee's dressing down to inform me that he'd run out of cold cases."

"I fail to see how that's a good thing, Gibbs," Abby said in dismay. "Tony started sleeping at his desk the last time he did this."

Gibbs grunted and shook his head.

"McGee saw it, and Ziva, too." Abby's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. Gibbs shoved the CafPow! at her. This time she took it with a smile, spinning to set it on the counter behind her.

"So I should expect company? Should I call Ducky?"

Spinning back around she realized she was talking to her machines again.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: **Okay, here's another one, let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Okay, I'm really, really sorry about the long wait… and for the vey corny nature of this chapter. Honestly, I'd sit down to write it, but never get more than a paragraph or two done at a time. Hopefully the next chapter will be easier to write. So, thanks for sticking with this (and the great reviews), regardless. Please review! Will welcome comments, suggestions, and requests (might help stave off writer's block – which means quicker updates! ;))

** * ** * ** * **

Instead of going back to the bullpen, Gibbs marched right through it and straight up to MTAC. He could find something to do up there, even if it was just to annoy Jenny. He figured he wouldn't need to be gone more than fifteen minutes or so, anyway. He just had to stay up there long enough for McGee and Ziva to think that it was going to take a while.

He could tell, just passing through, that both the junior agents were nearly bursting with questions. As soon as he was holed away in MTAC, which usually took at least an hour, they'd no doubt rush down to the basement with their questions, leaving the 'work robot' in peace – hopefully.

He might call forensics just to be sure.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva watched as Gibbs quickly climbed the steps to the balcony overlooking the bullpen. She silently willed him into MTAC and not the director's office. MTAC would keep him busy for a while, and she wanted to talk to Tony and Abby. _Tony first_, she thought, as she watched Gibbs endure the retinal scan required to open the door to MTAC.

Tony was very hard at work – big surprise, except that it was not. She sighed, and glanced over at McGee, making sure that he had noticed this opportunity as well. He nodded, but did not move. Ziva shrugged, he could stay to watch her interrogate Tony if he wanted to. Maybe he would even try to be helpful.

She stood up and slowly stalked over to Tony's – Agent DiNozzo's, this was _not_ Tony – desk. The man did not even bother to look up.

"DiNozzo." He still did not look up from whatever he was working on.

"Yes, Officer David?" He tone was polite and emotionless. For Ziva, it was a familiar tone, one she had used many times herself. Assassins had to be able to suppress their emotions, to keep them from interfering with 'the job'. Yes, she had heard that tone many times. She had heard it in the voices of her father, her brothers, her partners, acquaintances, and enemies. It nearly broke her heart to hear it from Tony.

"Tony, what is wrong?" She had planned a little more tact, but she was in unfamiliar territory. Maybe it was best to be blunt.

"Nothing is wrong, Officer David." Tony still refused to look at her, focusing intently on the pages in front of him. "I thank you for your concern, but I assure you that it is unnecessary."

Ziva growled her frustration. He was lying to her! When she had left Mossad, she had been amazed at the number of secrets _not_ kept here in America. She could say with certainty that none of her teammates had ever committed a crime of passion – if she was questioned on the matter of their loyalty to their country, and to justice, she would not hesitate to speak in their favor. They were good people, not like the agents at Mossad. People there had seen and participated in too much violence to believe in the American's idealistic view of Justice.

But this was Tony – the man that disclosed _everything_ personal about his personal life every chance he got. He told them when a date went particularly well or spectacularly badly. She even knew how many aunts he had and when their birthdays were. She knew when his uncle on his mother's side died and even how the funeral went. What could he possibly be hiding that was more 'personal' than any of these things? Why was he lying? Something felt fishy.

"Tony, do not lie to me. I know you are hiding something!" Ziva realized she was snarling. She tried to ease up a bit, but Tony did not seem to notice. He had yet to look up from his damn paper work! "Tony – "

Ziva broke off when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked over to see McGee gazing at Tony with a concerned expression.

"Tony, what Ziva means, is that you can tell us what's bugging you." McGee spoke gently, as if Tony were a scared animal. Ziva almost snorted. Tony was not a scared animal – he was the monster hiding in a closet. She wanted to beat it out of the closet and shine lights on the monster until she could identify it. Apparently McGee did not think that method would work.

"You and Officer David are bugging me." Well, McGee's method was not working, either.

"We would not bug you if you would just tell us the truth!" she exclaimed vehemently. "Why are you acting like a machine, Tony?"

"Uh, it's robot, Ziva. Tony is acting like a robot," McGee corrected, looking slightly disconcerted when Tony ignored Ziva's slip.

This was not going well.

Ziva clenched her fists, preparing to launch another assault. Tony _would_ say what he was hiding and then Gibbs or Abby or Ducky _would_ fix it and Tony _would_ be normal again.

"Tony –"

Ziva bit down harshly on a cry of frustration as she was interrupted –_again _– this time by Tony's phone. Tony spared them each a polite glance before reaching for the phone.

"Agent DiNozzo" The senior field agent's tone was crisp and studiously inoffensive. He nodded mutely as he listened to whoever was on the other end. "Alright, Mr. Kensy, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Standing, he hung up the phone and glanced at Ziva and McGee again.

"Legal needs me to sign a few things from the last case. If you'll excuse me, I'll be back in a few moments." Not waiting for a reply, Tony scooted around Ziva and strode toward the elevator, leaving the two agents staring at each other with mingled feelings of anger and rejection.

_He will not talk to us – why?_ Ziva was seething. What was so important to Tony that he would not trust them to know? Turning to McGee, she was unsurprised that he seemed to be echoing her own thoughts.

"Well, I am going to get answers," she announced. McGee followed her to the elevator – maybe, between the two of them, they would find some answers.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva and McGee shared a morose glance when the elevator dinged.

"Well, good luck, Ziva." McGee held his hand out solemnly.

Ziva wanted to believe that McGee was just being overly dramatic. She wanted to laugh and tease him for being tightly strung or highly wound. Actually, what she _really_ wanted was for Tony to do those things.

"And you as well, McGee," she replied seriously, shaking the proffered hand.

The Mossad ex-assassin watched as McGee slowly stumped off toward Ducky. Sighing heavily, she turned and made her way to Abby's Lab. She wondered if Abby would know about Tony already? He hadn't called her once that morning – maybe that would be indication enough?

Reaching Forensics she winced expectantly, waiting for loud metallic music to blast through her head, thrumming in time with her newly formed headache. It was quiet. Abby's lab was never quiet.

Quickly, Ziva scanned the room for any sign of danger. Abby was standing in front of the computer, running prints through AFIS. Nothing seemed out of place.

"Abby, is everything all right?" She tried not to sound too tense.

"Ziva!" Abby spun around, looking slightly off put. Ziva resisted the urge to check her hair or sniff her underarms. Was there something on her face? "What are you doing here?"

The liaison officer opened her mouth – only to be interrupted _again_ by a telephone ringing.

"Abby Scuito, Forensics Extraordinaire," the goth exclaimed enthusiastically. Abby's expression became serious as she tilted her head, listening intently to the other person. She nodded abruptly, even though whoever it was could not see her. "No worries, I've got it covered."

Ziva frowned as Abby quickly hung up and turned to face her with squinting eyes.

"You aren't supposed to be here. Go talk to Ducky." The goth's stance was stern, and her tone resolute.

Odd.

"But, Abby, I need to talk to you about –"

"No!" Ziva was interrupted – _again_, she thought with irritation – with unexpected vehemence. "I'm not talking to you. Ducky's talking to you. I didn't want to talk to you. Not that there's anything wrong with you, but I wanted to talk to McGee. Well, I didn't really want to talk to him, I mean, I like McGee, but not having to talk to him. Well, not about this, and, so you aren't supposed to be here. Just –"

"Abby!" It was Ziva's turn to narrow her eyes. "What do you know about Tony?"

Abby gulped. She should – Ziva was doing her best to be intimidating. The forensic scientist _knew_ something. She always babbled when she knew something.

"I said," Ziva hissed, "what do you know about Tony?"

"Um, I know a lot of things about Tony." Abby's defensive posture belied her wide, innocent eyes. "He likes grape popsicles and –"

"Not that Abby!" The Israeli glowered and slowly circled the other woman. "Why is Tony acting so strangely? I know you have noticed."

Ziva's suspect cringed, but said nothing.

"Tell me…" the ex-assassin growled, wishing she dared to finger one of her many knives. Even she knew not to _overtly_ threaten Abby. Only Gibbs was allowed to do that. The growl seemed to work though.

"Okay, okay, okay." Abby caved. "Tony is –"

Ziva swore to herself in Hebrew.

This time the interruption was not a phone, but McGee. A panicky McGee.

"Quick, Ziva, he's after me!" McGee cried, skidding to a stop just inside Abby's lab.

Ziva eyed the breathless man warily. "Who is after you, McGee?"

"Ducky!"

She let out a snort of laughter. "You are running from Ducky?"

"Duckman can get mean, when he wants," defended Abby. "Anyways, you get to talk to him."

Ziva's eyebrow's shot up in surprise when the voice of the respected Dr. Donald Mallard echoed into the room.

"In my day, young men respect their elders! It would be unheard of to 'infer' untruthfulness in an esteemed elder gentleman. Outright accusations would have been taken very seriously – and punished harshly!" Ducky was fuming.

The Mossad officer exchanged a surprised glance with Abby. So much for _that_ plan.

"I see your discussion with Ducky did not go so well, McGee."

Paling, the computer geek slid down behind Abby's lab table.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** See what happens when Tony and Gibbs aren't around to referee things? Ack, such a mess someone's going to have to clean up.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks for the great reviews, guys. Here's a longer chapter to make up for the long waits in between updates. Thanks for reading!

** * ** * ** * **

Once Ducky stormed into the lab, things degraded quickly. Accusations flew from everyone all at once. It took less than ten minutes for one of them to spout off something completely unforgivable.

That someone just happened to be McGee.

Ziva and Ducky both winced when Abby decided to take offense.

She punched McGee.

Hard.

Silence reigned – for about two minutes.

Fidgeting, Ducky cleared his throat. "Ah, Ziva, perhaps you should take McGee … away." The normally verbose doctor seemed to have difficulty finding words.

Ziva nodded grimly. Looking at McGee, she realized just how immature all of them were being. She was particularly angry at herself. As a Mossad officer she had been taught _control _since she was a child. How could any of them have let this happen? Abby had _never_ hit any one of them – well not like that. McGee was not bleeding, but the soft tissue around his eye was already starting to swell. He was going to have a spectacular glimmer in a few hours.

Glimmer? She frowned in frustration. Stupid English! Glimmer, twinkler, brighter…

Sighing in defeat, she grabbed McGee by the arm and towed him towards the elevator. He did not even protest. His expression was dejected. Well, Abby had hit him. He looked so depressed and hurt that Ziva had to suppress the urge to comfort him like she would a lost child. She was not even sure what he had said, to be so punished. _She_ had been busy arguing with Ducky, who was trying to _blame_ her and Timothy for DiNozzo's antics. Suddenly, Ziva growled.

This was all Tony's fault.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony looked up briefly when the elevator dinged. What he saw surprised him, but he studiously turned his attention back to the quarterly inventory report his was working on. Whatever had happened with Ziva and McGeek – Officer David and Agent McGee, he corrected himself – was absolutely none of his business.

He could hear his two teammates walking closer – neither were speaking. _Bad sign_, he thought. No talking meant whatever had happened – yes, he'd noticed McGee's reddened eye – hadn't been an accident. He wondered – fleetingly – who had hit him.

_None of your business. Back to work, _he told himself. He grimaced minutely when the 'voice' reminded him of his father. So polite, so cold, so politically _correct._ It disgusted him.

But he couldn't stop. He _had_ to be serious. No one would respect him if he wasn't. Just a week, one week, and then he could go back. Everyone would know that he _could_ be serious, he could get the work done, and that he wasn't just the class clown, the court jester.

Risking another quick glance at the slow moving pair, he forcefully told himself _not_ to worry that it was only the first day.

He could do this.

McGee's pained expression and Ziva's threatening and frustrated demeanor flashed through his mind even as he tried to focus all of his concentration on the unimportant bureaucratic paperwork before him.

Even in the few minutes it took McGee and Ziva to reach the Team Gibbs Zone, _'none of my business, none of my business'_ had already become Tony's mantra.

** * ** * ** * **

Timothy McGee stifled a groan.

He should have stayed home today. *

It was like _The Twilight Zone _come to life. Tony was serious. Gibbs bawled them out over the _tiniest_ thing. Ducky chased him screaming out of Autopsy. Abby hit him. Ziva was – well…

He glanced over at his partner. She had his arm in a death grip and was silently hauling him off the elevator and towards the beginning of the madness. Nothing was wrong with Ziva, he supposed. She was angry and frustrated, but he couldn't blame her.

She was just trying to live through this – same as him.

At least he had one ally left.

Somehow, he wasn't feeling any better.

His thoughts went back to Tony. The man had just barely raised his head when the elevator doors opened. For a brief second Tim had thought that Tony might say something. Anything. But the senior field agent had turned back to his work without comment – without so much as a flicker of interest. Tim felt his stomach sink down to his boots.

Whatever was going on here – and something _was_ going on here – his gut told him that it wouldn't go away until Tony snapped back to normal.

And Tim had no idea how to make that happen.

Heck, he wasn't even sure what _normal_ was for Tony anymore, much less what to do about it.

Erg.

Tim sat down at his desk quietly, avoiding looking directly at Ziva.

He knew what he would see on her face – anger and frustration. He just didn't want to deal with it. All he could bring himself to feel was _screwed_ – as in completely and utterly without hope to survive the day.

Powering up his computer, he decided that now would be a _great_ time to re-vamp his resume.

** * ** * ** * **

Casually, Gibbs strolled out of MTAC. He took the stairs slowly, carefully observing his team, searching for any signs of improvement.

They were all three at their desks, ostentatiously hard at work. Nothing wrong with McGee and Ziva getting some work done, but he sighed as DiNozzo placed another form in his out box.

His breath caught mid-sigh when Ziva glanced over at Tony, allowing him to see her expression.

She was angry. At Tony.

The Mossad officer must have made some noise, because McGee looked up, too. Gibbs cursed himself for a fool when he noticed the purpling bruise on the junior agent's cheekbone. Damnit, Abby said everything was under control!

DiNozzo hadn't hit him – that much Gibbs knew. Serious Tony was, well, a _gentle_man - coldly polite, haughtily aloof, and tolerant to a fault. No, Tony hadn't hit McGee.

But then, McGee really wouldn't need the help. Each and every member of "Team Gibbs" had rough spots. Tony had a knack for _finding_ them and an even better knack for avoiding them. Gibbs suspected that was one of the main reasons Tony was still on his team. Sure the man was annoying – but he always knew where the line was and he had _never_ crossed it.

And, so far, Tony had made sure that no one else crossed these invisible lines either.

When Gibbs' alpha male attitude started rubbing Ziva's control issues too hard, Tony said something stupid.

When Ziva's threats hit too close to home, Tony super glued McGee to his desk.

When Ducky began to feel overlooked because of one too many interruptions, Tony would ask a ridiculously open ended question, and then listen to the _entire_ answer.

When McGee said something a little too careless or judgmental around Abby, Tony loudly mocked the concept and then quickly distracted the pair.

Gibbs shook his head – McGee hadn't had a fair chance to learn where all of these lines lay. Tony had always been there to subtly drag him back to safety. And Gibbs, himself, had become a little too dependent on Tony.

No wonder everything had gone to hell in a hand basket.

He really should have known better than to leave the hooligans unattended.

_Damnit_ – there was no strategizing through one of Tony's _mood_s.

How the hell was he supposed to fix this?

** * ** * ** * **

Miss Abigail Scuito clomped angrily around her otherwise empty lab, clenching her fists and muttering under her breath. She was the very epitome of "pissed off". First her friend had questioned her – logically, Abby knew that Ziva was only worried because of Tony's dramatic _change_, but, still. Interrogating friends was so not cool.

Then McGee managed to somehow make Ducky mad. Who made _Ducky_ mad? The man had the patience of a saint. Abby had quickly tried to distract McGee; she tried to get him to talk to her, like he was supposed to in the first place. That hadn't gone so well.

"Why did he have to _say_ that?!? Tony isn't useless!" she cried out suddenly, addressing Major Mass Spec. "And, and….and he's not…."

Vibrating with fury, the goth choked back the rest of the sentence. No, Tony wasn't What McGee Said. Still, she shouldn't have hit him.

"Oh my god! I hit McGee!"

Well, now she felt awful.

Torn between guilt and undimmed anger, Abby paced faster. Part of her wanted to rush up to the bullpen and beg for forgiveness. Another part thinks that he deserved it.

Nobody insulted her friends.

Especially friends of her friends – people who should know better.

Abby sighed shakily.

She missed Tony.

** * ** * ** * **

Jimmy Palmer moved through autopsy as quietly as he was able. Dr. Mallard was in a truly vicious mood and the less attention Jimmy attracted, the better.

Normally, he remained oblivious to any internal "Team Gibbs" issues – but today it was rather hard to.

Everyone was griping about what was wrong with Tony.

Jimmy thought it was rather obvious, himself. After all, he'd been there, too.

Well, not literally, but, sort of there. He'd been in the same situation – well, okay, not really, but he'd _tried_ the same stunt that Tony was pulling.

It never worked, not even for him.

As an all around geek, Jimmy had tried many times to change his personality. He'd thought that maybe the other kids didn't like him because he talked too much. He'd go a few days without talking. Or maybe they wouldn't be friends with him because he was bad at baseball. He broke his arm during tryouts. Maybe it was the funny glasses. He ran into walls for a week.

It had taken him a while to realize that no matter what he tried to change, the other kids never liked him more, but always _less._ His mom told him it was because they knew he was pretending – that he was lying. No one likes to be tricked, and you can't be something you're not.

So little Jimmy had learned to _like_ who he was – to be comfortable being himself. Sure, he never became the popular one, but his newly developed confidence in himself and his abilities served him well. He made friends, impressed teachers, got a good internship, and felt better about life in general.

He shook his head. He doubted this was something that the other's would be able to understand. Ducky, from his stories, had never much cared to be left on the side lines. No, the elderly doctor was much to outgoing for that, never shy. His cheerful personality and startling intelligence would always reserve him a place in the 'in' crowd.

Abby, bless her, was just too enthusiastic about life, too much of an extrovert, not to have friends. Jimmy would never be able to picture her in the 'in' crowd, but Abby didn't need those people – she would always be able to form her own crowd. Hers was the type of personality that _accepted_ people, no matter how they dressed, where they were from, or what they looked like. No, Abby would always find a place to _belong_. If she didn't, she would sooner change the place than who she was.

Now, Jimmy had to admit, Tim was probably not a popular guy. He was probably one of the geekier kids at his school, but normal enough that he was sure to have a few friends – and trusting enough that they would be close ones. McGee also had a loving, supporting family. If he got teased, Tim would always have someone to turn to that would tell him he was _perfect_, just the way he was. Oh, sure, Tim had probably tried Tony's idea at least once, but Jimmy doubted he was familiar enough with rejection to recognize it from Tony. After all, McGee saw only Tony's façade – the jock, the _popular _guy. Tim was close enough to normal that he didn't have to pretend to be accepted, but far enough from it that he still envied the 'crowd'.

Ziva – well, Jimmy would bet his entire childhood coin collection that Ziva wouldn't had never been exposed to the kind of group dynamic that might support acceptance or rejection based on _normalcy_. Being trained as a Mossad officer, no doubt from childhood, probably forced her to grow up quickly. As an assassin and a spy, she learned very quickly to hide her emotions – to fit in where ever she went. Jimmy didn't think Ziva had ever experienced _rejection_ by a group of people that she _honestly_ wanted to belong with.

And Gibbs – Gibbs was a marine.

Jimmy shook his head again. Tony acted the very epitome of the _popular_ guy. He was good looking, came from a rich family, sported an over confident attitude, and boasted loudly about his prowess with the opposite sex. He played the part well – but Jimmy easily spotted the 'differences' from the real thing. Tony was loud and rude, but he wasn't brash – he didn't offend beyond repair. His insults and smart comments almost always disguised 'helpful hint' or 'much needed reprimand'. Yes, Jimmy had known immediately that Tony had never been _one of them._

What had taken Jimmy longer to figure out was _why_. Surely Tony _could_ have been one of the 'in' crowd if he'd wanted to. What was Tony hiding? Careful observation turned up some helpful facts. First off, Tony was an only child and showed no love, not even a twinge of affection towards his father – even in the sparse comments about his family. He rarely spoke of his _personal_ life, beyond boozing and skirt chasing and college fantasies. Jimmy slowly came to realize that this stuff wasn't important to Tony in the least. Once he knew what he was looking for, it had been easy to form a conclusion.

Tony had been rejected by his family, for whatever reason, and by his peers.

He'd recognized the signs in Tony, and even appreciated the subtle recognition Tony had given him in return. _Outcasts unite!_ He thought, stifling a grin. From day one Tony had covertly 'accepted' Jimmy's presence in the team. He hadn't done anything that the others might notice, but he hadn't had to.

He'd given Jimmy a cool nickname _autopsy gremlin_, teased him with the same enthusiasm he'd shown McGee or Ziva, and even taken the time to 'correct' his mistakes with the same loud and insulting manner he used on McGee.

The others would never recognize such a seemingly clumsy overture of friendship, but Jimmy did.

Because they had more in common than anyone cared to realize.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: **What can I say? I have a soft spot for Jimmy. I'm trying to build his character, so it'll be a little easier for me to write him in _Who's the Boss?_ Besides, he can make things a little more interesting here. What do you think? Thanks for reading and please, please review!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Alrighty, here's another chapter for y'all. Thanks for the absolutely great reviews, guys! Enjoy.

** * ** * ** * **

The next day, Gibbs sat at his desk, growling at everyone in general and nobody in particular. Everyone had gone home angry yesterday – some more than others.

Gibbs had tried to smooth things over – but, come on, it didn't take three divorces for him to figure out that 'resolving things' was definitely not his strong suit. Ziva was mad at Tony, Abby and Ducky were mad at McGee, Ducky was also mad at Ziva, and McGee was mad at _him_.

He growled again. He wished he knew what was going on in Tony's head. The object of his (and pretty much everyone else's ) scrutiny was quietly working through a pile of triplicates, checking the time every so often. It just so happened to be twenty minutes till lunch.

For Gibbs, lunch felt like a deadline – Tony was broken and he had till lunch to figure out how to fix him. There was no way Gibbs could survive another day like yesterday. Gibbs refused to feel bad that he hadn't gotten anything done all morning – Tony was doing enough work for the entire team. A good thing, sort of. McGee and Ziva were just as distracted as their team leader.

He swiveled his chair to watch the two junior agents. McGee was absently linking together all of his paperclips. The rubber bands would probably be next – he'd already separated all of his staples into useless bits of bent metal. Ziva was stabbing an eraser with her letter opener.

Gibbs sighed. No one had said anything at all today – well, except for Tony, who had courteously wished them all good morning. McGee had stumped in five minutes late, hair tousled and clothes disheveled. His black eye made it look like he'd just come from a bar fight.

Ziva, on the other hand, was perfectly groomed. She had stalked in with a deceptively cool demeanor. The 'deception' didn't last very long – she'd completely mauled four pencils and two erasers by the time Gibbs usually took his first coffee break.

Which he didn't, not today. No way in hell he was going to leave those three alone after what happened yesterday.

McGee's watch beeped, reminding Gibbs that it was lunch time, and he didn't have a plan. He watched with immense frustration as Tony stood smoothly and collected his jacket. Gibbs knew he couldn't let Tony go alone, but he had no idea what he was going to say. What could he say that wouldn't make things worse?

His own words came back to him "_Make DiNozzo feel loved and respected and needed and all that crap". _

Saying those things was one thing. Getting DiNozzo to listen was another. After all these years, Gibbs was still surprised that Tony didn't seem to understand how important he was to the team, to Gibbs. Essential really, as yesterday proved.

Gibbs watched with some surprise as Jimmy Palmer stepped off the elevator and timidly approached the senior field agent. Tony looked up politely.

"Hey, Tony, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for lunch?" Jimmy smiled cheerfully, his attitude one of … respect?

Gibbs nodded to himself. _That_ was what Tony needed. He watched both men carefully, ready to intervene if needed.

"Sorry, Jimmy, but I do have a lot of work to finish. I was planning to grab something and head back here. I appreciate the offer, though." Tony's rejection was courteous, if a bit stiff. Gibbs smirked to himself when he noticed Ziva and McGee's incredulous expressions.

"Ah, work, I understand, Tony. Come to think of it, I have a few things that could use some attention in autopsy. Why don't I run out with you? We can grab something together, and head back early."

_Good thinking, Jimmy_, Gibbs thought to himself. There really was no way Tony could _politely_ refuse him, without seeming like he objected to Jimmy's company. Gibbs decided he'd definitely underestimated Ducky's assistant. Tony would be in good hands.

That left the other two agents to him.

** * ** * ** * **

Jimmy aimed at sidelong look at his reluctant lunch partner. He felt bad about practically cornering Tony in the bullpen, but _somebody_ had to do _something._ A few discrete – well, Jimmy knew they probably weren't _discrete_ – glances at Gibbs told him that, if he was up for 'fixing Tony', he was welcome to try. According to Gibbs' quick nod of approval, he must be doing something right.

He turned his head to observe Tony again. The older man was walking stiffly, lacking his usual casual grace. He looked uncomfortable, as if he were resisting the urge to fidget with every step. They were walking to a nearby Thai restaurant. The food was decent there, they were usually quick with your order, and, considering the amount of takeout orders they received, they had very high quality ToGo containers. Seriously, the food was always still warm by the time he got a chance to eat it.

Thinking about that reminded him how little time he had to make his point. Jimmy sighed. How was he going to make his point? He knew what the problem was, and he could guess _why_ it was there, but _how_ was he supposed to convince Tony that he was wrong? Especially if one Leroy Jethro Gibbs couldn't seem to manage. Jimmy couldn't think of anyone that Tony respected more. Or trusted more.

"Hey, um, Tony?" _Great, Jimmy, go ahead and bumble through this_, he chastised himself. But, then, when had Tony ever been anything but forthright when correcting _his_ mistakes? Sure, the man had never been _open_, but he was always blunt and easy to understand. No one would accuse him of gentleness – although Jimmy knew for a fact that Tony _was_ very perceptive of others' feelings. He just had a way of easing a bad situation without looking like anything but a complete jerk or an utter fool. Jimmy couldn't do that – well, not on purpose – but he _could_ be blunt and forthright, in his own bumbling way.

"Yes, Jimmy?"

Belatedly, Jimmy realized that Tony was staring at him. Oops. Shrugging away his contemplations, the autopsy gremlin took a deep breath. He could so do this – maybe he'd try channeling Opra, er, Dr. Phil.

"What's with all of – er – this?" He waved his hand to indicate Tony. The older agent cocked his head to one side and answered politely and promptly.

"Italian leather shoes – genuine mind you – to go with an Arman-"

"No!" Jimmy frowned. He was doing that on purpose, drat it. He glared at the _polite_ (read: smug) smile on the older agent's face.

_You can do this – remember, just channel Dr. Phil._

** * ** * ** * **

_Damn._ Tony just knew that lunch was a trap. But he couldn't say no – not without insulting or offending a friend, and that was against the Rules.

So, really, there wasn't anything he could do except be as obtuse as possible. Er, that kind of went against the whole point of being Serious Tony.

Damn. This was a lot harder than it was supposed to be.

All he wanted to accomplish was to prove to his friends that he _could_ be serious and he _could_ do good work. He was a competent, intelligent NCIS agent who just acted like an idiot because it was his way of coping with tense situations. He didn't know any other way.

But he was tired of them thinking that he was _just_ an idiot or class clown. And he just wanted to prove that he was more. He wanted to earn just a smidge of respect so that they would take him seriously _sometimes._

He turned back to face Jimmy, who was looking at him expectantly.

Yes, Tony knew what he meant.

"Sorry, Jimmy, I'm not following you." Well, lying isn't really on the rules, one way or another. It really didn't bother him that he was following DiNozzo Sr.'s rules now instead of Gibbs' rules – nope, not one bit.

Ok, so it sort of, kind of bothered him a lot.

"Sure you aren't." The autopsy gremlin muttered to himself, seeming quite a bit put out. Tony felt sort of bad. "You know, they got in a fight over you."

Tony's eyebrow went up.

"Who? Z-" _Ziva and Abby? 'Cause that would be so frickin' hot. Not that I would think about them that way, because, hey, Ziva's my partner and Abby – Gibbs would kill me._ Tony bit his tongue, _hard_.

"Oh, everyone." Palmer batted the air flippantly, nearly poking a fellow pedestrian in the eye. "Sorry!"

"Who is everyone? 'Cause if Gibbs…" The field agent let that though trail off. There was no way he could finish that sentence without breaking at least three of his 'Rules of Seriousness'. Jimmy seemed to follow his thought just fine.

"No, no, no, no. Not Gibbs," the younger man rushed to reassure him. "Just Ducky and Abby and Ziva and McGee."

"Ducky?" Dr. Donald Mallard was one of the most patient, even tempered (or at least _predictable_) men Tony knew. He didn't think for a second that Jimmy would try to lie to him, but maybe he just didn't have the whole story.

"Sure. McGee came in to autopsy to ask Ducky some questions about you." Jimmy tried to hide an amused smile. Tony frowned – whatever happened, it wasn't funny. Jimmy was accusing Tony of indirectly causing the venerable Dr. Mallard, loving and loyal Abby, Officer Ziva 'In-control-of-my-emotions-at-all-times' David, and McLittleTim to go at each others' throats.

That would take a lot of doing, and Tony hadn't done anything all morning.

It was a very serious allegation. And Jimmy was still smiling.

"I'm sorry, Tony. It's just…I've never seen Dr. Mallard that angry. He chased McGee out of Autopsy."

This time both of Tony's eyebrows rose in disbelief. He guessed it was okay for Jimmy to smile; he smirked a little himself.

"And then they found Ziva and Abby."

"Fighting?"

"Er, more like Ziva interrogating Abby. Abby's still upset. Dr. Mallard has been fuming about how dense Ziva is and McGee had to filch an ice pack from the gym."

"Quite a shiner," Tony observed dispassionately. He was _not_ taking responsibility for this mess. If he did that, then he'd have to fix it.

And he couldn't fix it, not while he was being serious. It just wouldn't work.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, younger man stopped walking, forcing Tony to stop and turn to face him.

"Tony, you aren't acting like yourself and your friends are worried for you."

"Ha!" DiNozzo let out a self deprecating chuckle. "Ziva accused me of lying to her! McGee thinks I'm in some kind of trouble, like maybe with someone's husband!" It had hurt that they automatically assumed his 'funk' was something _he_ had done.

"No! Ziva thinks that you are lying, yes, but she and McGee think that someone you loved just died or something. They're concerned – all of them, even Gibbs – and they don't know how to help."

He eyed Ducky's assistant coldly. Jimmy sighed again.

"Look, maybe they don't like you or trust you as much as you want them to, but they can't function without you. And they don't even realize it. Pretending to be someone you're not isn't doing anyone any good."

It was Tony's turn to sigh.

Maybe Jimmy was right. He'd done his very best to ignore what was going on with his teammates for the last two days. How exactly was that suppose to make them trust him? McGee'd been punched, Ziva'd been yelled at and alienated, Abby had been interrogated, and Ducky had been accused (of what, he wasn't exactly sure) and Tony was sitting around doing nothing.

Even Gibbs was suffering – he'd gone all morning without a single coffee break.

They were his friends. He cared about them.

Jimmy was right – he needed to fix this. Pretending – and as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he _was_ only pretending – to be his father's son wasn't doing anyone any good. Gibbs had hired him, DiNozzo, the completely wacky, disobedient, crazy Baltimore detective – that had to stand for something, right?

"You're right, Jimmy. I screwed up."

Jimmy flashed him a brilliant, triumphant smile.

"So, lunch first. Then you can tackle the Fantastic Four."

"What? Jimmy, there is no way Ziva can be Jessica Alba. And Ducky or McGee would have to be Mr. Fantastic. Oh-my-gosh! I'm telling Abby you called her the Thing!"

The younger man's expression morphed from one of surprised pleasure to dread.

_It's good to be back._

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Okay, one or two more chapters to wrap up. I'm so excited! Please review and let me know what you think so far.


	9. Chapter 9

Abigail Scuito slogged quietly through a small mountain of paperwork. She contemplated listening to a Scottish Dirge, but couldn't muster the energy to trudge over to the stereo. Jimmy had even said something about her pig tails looking wilted. Come to think of it, Jimmy was the only person still talking to her, besides Gibbs, who didn't count because he doesn't really talk much anyway.

McGee won't talk to her because she _punched _him, right on the eye. A little to the left and she could have _broken_ his nose. She felt horrible and he was mad at her. She couldn't just apologize and fix it because Tony was still not Tony and McGee might say something else that would make her hit him

And she couldn't ask Not Tony to help her fix it, neither could she go to Ducky or Ziva or even Gibbs.

Duck-man was angry and irritable the last time she tried talking with him. He couldn't even get through one of his classic Duck-man stories because of his unusual agitation. Ziva – well, Abby's kind of afraid of Ziva right now. Being interrogated is so not fun, and Ziva is really good at it.

And it really wouldn't be fair to Gibbs for her to start whining about Tony to _him_. She'd called him when he failed to drop in with her morning Caf-Pow! only to be informed that he was forgoing all of his coffee breaks because he didn't an unsupervised Trio of Doom.

Abby sniffled into her lacy black handkerchief.

"My dear girl, this is truly miserable, isn't it?"

Abby looked up, surprised. There was the Duck-man, looking as depressed as she'd ever seen him. His bowtie was even crooked. With another snuffle for emphasis, she nodded in agreement with Ducky's statement. Being on bad terms with all of her favorite friends truly was miserable.

"Yes, well…" Ducky sighed. "I suppose we all could have handled yesterday a bit better." Again she nodded. "You know, this reminds me of the time when… ah, well, it doesn't really matter I suppose. Perhaps -"

Ducky's half hearted attempt at a 'normal' conversation was interrupted by the shrilling of her telephone. She stared at it a moment with complete apathy.

Why should she answer the phone? Ducky couldn't even bring himself to finish a story, what did it matter if she answered the phone? The only person who could fix this mess needed to be fixed himself – and Gibbs had already confessed to having no luck in the Tony department.

"I do believe you are supposed to answer that, my dear," Ducky prompted kindly. She turned her sullen stare to the ME. Abby didn't _want_ to answer the phone. As if it had heard her thought, the underappreciated contraption stopped ringing.

"What's the matter with you, Abbs?" A completely unexpected, cheerful, _wonderful_ voice called from the doorway. "You love answering the phone."

** * ** * ** * **

Tony didn't even have time to brace himself. Before he'd even finished his thought his arms were full of Abby. Glancing up from the sobbing bundle of goth, he noticed that Dr. Donald Mallard was wearing the single _goofiest_ grin he'd ever seen on the distinguished Scottish gentleman.

_Well, hell, I really screwed up this time._ Jimmy was right. They needed him. It wasn't _entirely_ their fault that they didn't know what to do without him. Tony smirked. Apparently, he was _that_ good. Well, time to fix his little mess.

As if on cue, Abby pulled away from him, scowling.

"Anthony DiNozzo, where have you been?!?" she demanded.

Tony raised his eyebrow lazily. He and Jimmy had decided not to bring lunch back to the office, but they'd been back on time.

"You _left_ and this – this crazy pod-person, serious you came and did things that you _never_ do. And he didn't tease Ziva or McGee once! And then I punched McGee and –"

"Abbs." Tony gently cut her off. A glance from Ducky told him that he agreed with Abby, despite her rather… curious phrasing. "I'm sorry, okay? But I'm back now."

"Really?" Abby gave him a look. Tony started to nod seriously, but thought better of it. Instead, he turned on his cheesiest grin and laughed.

"Who else can keep you all out of trouble, huh Little Missy?" He slipped into a fake Western accent. "I reckon' you could use a hand there." He nodded towards the paperwork piled on her desk.

Abby's eyes widened. Of course, even Serious Tony wouldn't do someone else's work. Abby looked worried. Ducky made a small sound of protest, but nevertheless stepped out of Tony's way.

The field agent approached the desk as if it were a live thing. Then, suddenly, with a gallant sweep of his arms the offensive mass of paper landed in the trash can next to Abby's desk. Both of the lab rats (although Tony would never call them that to their faces) sighed in relief.

Tony was back.

"Erm." Ducky cleared his throat sternly. Abby quickly moved to his side, tapping her foot and frowning with disapproval. "You, my lad, have a terrible mess to clean up." Tony's grin faded a bit. "One which you'd best see to now."

Gulping, Tony nodded. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready to face Ziva and McGee – and, oh hell, Gibbs too.

Double crap.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva was working on her fifth eraser since lunch. She had already carved through all the spares she usually kept in her desk, and had used her lunch break to buy more. Yes, she was wasting resources, but she feared that if she did not vent her anger somehow, someone would get hurt. People were more important than material resources, right?

Well, maybe not Tony.

She jabbed the eraser vehemently, twisting the tip of the letter opener to 'gut' the helpless bit of rubber. It was a new one, with crisp white edges. She growled a bit.

As a joke, after the first time Tony had caught her mauling erasers, the agent had taken up a collection, harvesting all the bullpen's sad, used erasers to keep the 'Psychotic Eraser Mauler' happy. Since then, she'd been supplied with enough erasers to indulge in her stress relieving habit without having to go out of her way – like buying a pack of erasers.

How could Tony just _change_ like he did, without any warning or reason? Why would he not tell them what was wrong? Surely it could not be that embarrassing or personal. This was Tony, after all.

He was still Tony, correct?

Something wet hit her shoulder causing Ziva to start, automatically spinning around in the direction it had come from.

Tim's desk.

McGee was frowning sourly, fingering a wet patch on his shoulder.

All right, where had the 'wet' come from?

_Splotch!_

Lightening fast, she swiveled.

Gibbs' desk.

Gibbs' eyebrow was arched, but he did not seem to know where the water – Ziva was fairly sure it _was_ only water – had come from. That was extremely odd.

Not a second later Tony strolled in, and Ziva wished that she could blame the mysterious water bombing on him. She sighed – his hair was still wrong.

Nevertheless, she eyed DiNozzo with a strange combination of suspicion and hope. His entrance was rather coincidental… and she tended to agree with Gibbs' opinion about _those._

Nothing ordinary happened, however.

Tony carefully set down his Styrofoam cup at the edge of his desk, before settling back into the rather monstrous stack of triplicates that had been _growing_ steadily all day. Sighing with disappointment, Ziva turned her attention back to her erasers.

Not five minutes later, it happened again. This time she registered the little white ball of paper that accompanied the disgusting wet splotch. Again, she reacted instinctively, looking up in the direction the missile had come from.

Tony's desk.

Ziva's eyes narrowed as she registered that he was reaching for something – but, no, he was just adding another form to the 'complete' pile.

She growled her frustration and got up to prowl around for the trickster.

No one pranked her except Tony.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs snorted to himself when Ziva got up to 'hunt' for the spitballer.

He'd been surprised and unutterably relieved when DiNozzo had swaggered into the bullpen – somehow managing to attract _only_ his attention – and immediately began harassing his teammates.

In fact, he'd been so relieved that he hadn't even thought about yelling at the other man for using _his_ partition as cover. Instead, he'd merely raised an eyebrow at McGee and Ziva's suspicious glares.

Gibbs observed Tony carefully.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Tony glanced up and met Gibbs' gaze directly – with a smirk.

An honest to God, I'm-up-to-no-good, DiNozzo # 7, cat-got-the-cream smirk.

Hallelujah.

Gibbs sent one of his more paternal glares DiNozzo's way. He was grateful Tony was back to normal – he'd have to start treating Jimmy _much_ better – but the young man was still going to get an earful for pulling this shit in the first place.

The smirk wilted a little and Gibbs knew that he had gotten his message across.

_Basement after work – we will talk_… He glanced meaningfully in Tim and Ziva's directions …after_ you fix this._

DiNozzo nodded resignedly before cautiously raising a straw to his lips.

** * ** * ** * **

Gray.

McGee saw gray with blurry edges, and he only partially blamed his still swollen right eye.

He had spent the last hour re-formatting his resume, making sure it was up to date and up to snuff – something he only did after he'd screwed up royally or was unreasonable depressed.

But, now, he just couldn't deal with all the stress – not that he was actually serious about finding another job, but it felt nice to pretend that he _had_ an escape route. The job itself was hazardous enough – but now he was dealing with the raw and unpredictable and _dangerous_ personalities of his coworkers.

Seriously, within the last 36 hours, Tim had discovered all sorts Scary Things about this group of people that he had begun to think of as a second family. Gibbs was actually prone to unreasonable and unexplainable meltdowns that could be triggered by even the most innocent of stimuli – such as McGee and Ziva being a measly seven minutes late. Ducky, whom he had thought was a patient and mild-mannered soul, bottled up his negative emotions and every once in a while indulged in releasing them on unsuspecting victims – by chasing McGee out of Autopsy in response to a mostly innocent question, for example. Abby had a mean right hook – the Forensics extraordinaire who wouldn't hurt a fly if she could help it. Or so he thought. Even Ziva had had a surprise for him – he'd walked in on the ex-_assassins_' interrogation of someone she had more than once referred to as a friend. Maybe the assassin can be taken out of the Mossad, but the Mossad can't be taken out of the assassin.

McGee sighed.

And then, of course, there was Tony.

McGee looked over at the empty desk of his 'partner'.

Fun, annoying, goofy, big-brother Tony was actually cold, morose, and depressing. It just didn't make any sense. Why had he changed?

McGee hit the 'enter' key with a little more force than necessary.

Sure, Tony had been a pain in the butt, but they had worked around that. They, the team, had a very, very fragile equilibrium. With Tony out of whack, they were all acting up. Couldn't Tony, for once in his life, do the responsible thing and _not_ make things more complicated than they already were?

No. Of course not.

McGee sighed again – and flinched when something wet 'shlopped' into his shoulder. Grimacing, he dislodged the massive spitball by peeling the wet part of his shirt away from his skin and flapping it a bit.

Belatedly, he glanced around for the perpetrator, eyes automatically going to Tony's empty desk. Another wet smacking sounded and he glanced over to see Ziva staring in his direction suspiciously. Tim tried to look innocent.

Minutes later another spitball found it's mark, this time causing Ziva to glare in _Gibbs'_ direction. Ziva was just getting, supposedly to hunt down and kill whoever was behind the attacks, when Tony strolled in casually.

_Something_ was different.

McGee could tell.

Tony still wore his "Serious" expression. His hair was still fixed weird, and he was still wearing funeral colors.

Even so, Tim sensed a change.

He kept watch out of the corner of his eye, inadvertently witnessing a very strange exchange of looks between Tony and Gibbs. It was almost like they were _talking_. _Need to watch for that in the future_, he thought. It was a disconcerting thought, that Tony and the Boss knew each other well enough to communicate without words – especially with his Tony's _original_ personality traits.

Tony nodded and McGee looked down at his desk quickly, and up again just fast enough to catch Tony launching a spitball at the back of Ziva's head.

"Yes!"

Tony was _back!_

Ziva swiveled to face him with cat like agility, glaring at him murderously from over the top of the partition.

Gulping, McGee sent a pleading look in Tony's direction.

Tony was busily sorting through the numerous white, yellow, and pick triplicates strewn over his desk. Gibbs was openly smirking his amusement.

Crap.

Ziva stalked over to Tim's desk, casually snatching the letter opener from her desk as she passed it.

"McGee," she hissed threateningly, leaning forward over his desk and deliberately invading his personal space. "You will –"

She stopped mid sentence, snapping her gaze to Tony, who, again, was innocently sorting triplicates. She made a sound that was halfway between a yowl and a croak.

Tim would have laughed if the Isreali wasn't less than three inches from his face.

Disgruntled, she leaned back, but refocused on the computer geek.

"You-"

This time Tim heard the wet smacking sound of the spitball hitting its target.

Ziva turned purple.

Tim ran for cover, vaguely registering that his boss held the elevator door open for him.

** * ** * ** * **

_McGee._

Ziva was seething.

She glared intently at the younger agent, willing him to dissolve into a quivering puddle of goo.

How _dare_ he so blithely take up Tony's role as trouble maker. She had not given up on Tony yet – they _would_ fix him. Tony was her teammate and no matter how annoying and incontinent his immature behavior could be, he always had her back.

She did not know why he was lying to them – to her, but she _would_ find out. And then she would yell at him. And then she and Gibbs and McGee would fix it.

Maybe she would have to threaten some woman's husband or take care of a bookie or steal an incriminating document, but she would do it.

And then Tony would be normal again.

Wearing her most intimidating scowl, Ziva leaned into McGee's personal space.

"McGee," she bit out, "You will-"

Something wet smacked her left shoulder.

Instinctively, she spun in the direction of the 'threat'.

Tony's desk.

She blinked slowly.

Tony was _working_ quietly, the picture of innocence. None of his usual 'tells' were present. He was not hunched down in a defensive posture; he wasn't focusing too intently on the form in front of him. Tony wasn't even fidgeting or acting as if he was ignorant of the drama going on around him.

There was no way McGee could have made that shot – but there was no way Tony did it either. Tony was _not_ that good of an actor.

McGee must have an accomplice.

She turned back to her _partner, _glowering even more fiercely –

And did not even get out one word of her threat before she was hit again. This time she was _sure_ the missile came from Tony's direction.

Her eyes narrowed.

What game was DiNozzo playing?

She grit her teeth and slunk over to his desk, barely registering that both McGee and Gibbs had retreated to the elevator.

Tony was a dead man.

"You." Ziva put as much anger into that one word as she could muster.

Tony looked up and grinned.

Ziva's anger melted away and her stomach did a hopeful little flip.

"Hiya, Z. What can I do for you?" He was being cheerful – and ingratiating.

Ziva tried to glare at him.

"You launched wet balls of paper at me," she accused. Having the normal, smiley DiNozzo back so abruptly was unsettling.

"They're called spitballs, Ziva." Tony rolled his eyes.

"You are –" She stopped. What was happening?

Had Tony fixed his 'problem' whatever it was? Had he been in danger?

Would he lie to her again?

All of the sudden, her righteous anger came rushing back.

"You lied to me." Mossad agents lied to each other and double crossed their partners. NCIS agents did not – she did not want to believe that Tony was anything other than the man she had come to tolerate over the last few years. Tolerate – and, more recently, appreciate.

Her throat tightened with an emotion that was _not_ anger. She tried to push it back – anger was safe, disappointment was dangerous.

"Ziva –" Tony's expression softened. "It's not like that."

"Yes, it is!" She slapped her hand on his desk vehemently, for once not caring whether or not she had an audience watching her control slip. "You were in trouble-" She jabbed a finger into his chest. "And you did not tell me. You lied."

Tony's eyes widened and he shook his head.

"You were worried." He looked surprised.

"What did you think?!?" Ziva was practically snarling. "You stopped irritating Gibbs, pestering McGee, and even talking with Abby. You were like a mummy!"

"Zombie, Ziva."

"Whatever!"

"Uh, Ziva, calm down. People are staring." Tony made a soothing gesture with his hands that just mad her madder.

How could he tell her to _calm down_? He was an _imposter_. He'd betrayed her, lied to her.

"I do not care." She gripped the edge of his desk tensely and leaned forward. "You. Lied."

"No. Ziva…" Tony sighed, looking for all the world like he had accidentally ran over her cat. "Ziva, I was just trying to make a point. I wasn't in trouble or anything like that."

"I do not believe you! Still, you lie!" She snatched her hands back from the desk as if she had been burned.

"No! Ziva, listen –"

Ziva did not want to listen. She did not care was the liar had to say.

Spinning on her heel, she stormed out of the bullpen, fuming under her breath. She had made it to the edge of the elevator, almost to the stairs, when his hand closed around her arm.

Ziva barely restrained herself from just _reacting_ and taking off his arm.

"Let. Me. Go."

"No." Tony did not even flinch at her black look. "You will hear me out. Elevator now."

Without waiting for a response, he marched over to the elevator and pushed the button. Almost immediately, the ding sounded and the doors opened.

Ziva followed him inside, unsurprised when he pushed the emergency stop button.

"I can't believe you think I would lie to you about something _important_." Ziva blinked. Tony sounded angry.

He had no _right_ to be angry.

"You think –"

"No." He cut her off firmly. "I told you nothing was wrong. I was trying to prove a _point_, Ziva. I _can_ be serious when I need to – I know how to be professional and I know how to do my damn job. I know I act like a jack-ass most of the time, but you and McGee are supposed to know better by now. That act's for other people. I'm tired of you and McGee acting like I'm only good for a joke here and there."

Stunned, Ziva tried to form a response.

He was angry at _her_ for underestimating him.

She frowned. It was true, she often wondered why he was still on Gibbs' team. She thought about all of the lucky cracks Tony had had over the last few years. What if it was not luck, but skill?

Yesterday, Tony had done some really skillful acting. Perhaps he was telling the truth – she had underestimated him and he wanted to change that.

She wanted to believe him. _Anything_ but losing faith in her partner, in her team.

She squared her jaw. She wanted to believe him, but she would not allow herself to be duped.

"Damn it, Ziva, say something."

Ziva watched him rake a hand through his hair in agitation. When she just stared at him blankly, her face devoid of emotion, he began to pace ridiculously.

Two steps, turn, two steps, turn.

He would get dizzy in a minute. She might have been amused, if she was not so sure it was all an act. _He is a liar_, she reminded herself, _just like your _family_ back home._ His act was good, but she would not be fooled. She laughed cruelly.

"You are just like Mossad –"

"I am not like Mossad."

Again, Ziva was taken aback.

Tony no longer sounded upset. His words were not defensive or offended.

He sounded sad.

He sighed, no longer pacing, and ran his hand through his hair again. By this point it was no longer neatly gelled, but tousled, making him look more like his usual self.

"I'm sorry, Ziva. I never meant to give you a reason to doubt me."

There was no way she could doubt the sincerity of his words. He meant them with all his heart.

She believed him.

He was no liar.

Ziva grinned in relief.

Tony was back.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony followed Ziva out of the elevator, rubbing his shoulder where she had hit him with completely unnecessary force while threatening to do worse if he ever pulled another stunt like that again.

And she didn't mean the spitballing. Apparently, he still had it coming for that.

In front of him, Ziva slowed and Tony realized that he could hear McGee's voice coming from Abby's lab.

"You're sure?"

"Yup. Tony's back," Abby replied confidently.

Gibbs grunted.

"Young Anthony certainly does his best to keep us on our toes." Tony thought he detected a hint of reproof in Ducky's casual comment. He bit back a sheepish groan.

"Nah, Duck. He just wants to make sure we see him."

Once again, Gibbs hit the nail on the head.

This team was his family, and Tony wanted – no, needed to be understood and _accepted_.

A soft hand squeezed his own briefly, breaking into his thoughts. Looking up, he met Ziva's unusually sincere, open gaze.

"I see you, Tony," she said softly.

Tony grinned.

Ziva would never know how much that meant to him. Gibbs either, probably, but that didn't matter. He had been stupid to think he needed to _prove_ himself to the team. They didn't want some serious, by the book, professional snob – they wanted him, Tony DiNozzo.

They _did_ appreciate him, even if they didn't realize it half the time. He was a necessary and vital member of the team and each and every one of them trusted him with their lives on a daily basis. They _were_ a family, and he had been a fool to doubt them.

Jimmy had been right – Tony felt a swell of gratitude go out to the autopsy gremlin and he vowed to adopt Ducky's geeky assistant as his kid brother, right next to McGee.

Even with all that to think about, Tony was reluctant to be _too_ serious. He didn't want to scare anyone again, so he turned to Ziva and smirked mischievously.

"You say that now," he teased loudly, deliberately catching the attention of the others in Abby's lab, "but you didn't earlier when I nailed you right behind the ear with the _perfect_ spitball. I thought you were going to disembowel poor, innocent McGee."

The response was instantaneous.

"You will be lucky if I do not disembowel you with a paper clip," Ziva stated threateningly.

"Tony! You let Ziva give me a heart attack!" McGee's complaint was half-hearted at best. He sounded more like a kid in a candy store. Or a nerd at a scifi convention.

"What _is_ 'the' perfect spitball?" Abby sounded mildly curious and Tony knew he was forgiven. She had probably even already patched things up with McGee.

"Spitballs, my boy." Ducky tutted at him. "When I was young, we used to give our enemies wet willies. Of course, I was still a school boy then. I will never forget…"

Smack!

The rest of the jumbled responses were drowned out by a resounding headslap.

Tony smiled.

He was _back_.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:**___Whew! I'm done! I want to thank you all for your patience and absolutely great reviews! I'm eager to hear what you guys think about this story (even if it's just constructive criticism), so drop me one last review! _


End file.
